Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragonfly
by jacobk
Summary: Who says living in Brockton Bay is suffering? If things went differently, even Taylor Hebert could have a little fun. My entry in the "Taylor triggers with a different power" genre.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Because Worm needs to have a few more lighthearted fics. All I ask is that if you laugh, drop a review and tell me why.

AN2: You really ought to have read the first arc of Worm before reading this, although I try to make the humor accessible to all.

ooOoo

Lung was going to kill kids? There was no more time to listen in; it was time to act. I stood and stepped to the edge of the roof, feeling that deep-seated sense of confidence in my actions that signalled that my power agreed with my chosen course of action.

When I first activated my abilities, I thought I had received a sort of low-level grab bag of powers. I was strong enough to kick a locker open from the inside; far more flexible than I had been; maybe even a little smarter. Nothing to suggest I was the second coming of Eidolon, but any superhuman ability is better than none.

Then I started to get the feelings. Not compulsions, exactly, just a deep-seated inclination to do certain things. At first I had resisted, but eventually I learned to just go with the flow.

I leapt off the roof, doing a crisp flip and turn in mid-air so that when I landed I was crouched facing Lung's gang.

"Aren't you boys up past your bedtimes?"

Not to say I was proud of all the things I had done, but following my instincts had gotten me this far.

ooOoo

Mitch Kowalski was the kind of guy who, if you looked at him, you might not immediately guess that he owned a gym, but if somebody told you he owned a gym, you wouldn't be surprised. A powerfully built man in his late thirties, one of the things he really enjoyed about owning his own business was that on slow days he could hang out and chew the fat with the regulars. He was doing just that on a lazy Monday afternoon, alternating between heavy sets of squats and swapping stories about the weekend, when he was interrupted by a familiar set of power chords.

His first thought was that somebody was playing a prank by putting "Eye of the Tiger" through the PA system. He ruled that out when he realized that the three guys most likely to pull that kind of stunt were all standing next to him at the squat cage. Looking around the room, he finally spotted the source of the music just as the vocals kicked in: a girl at the bench press.

She was lifting a decent amount of weight. More than decent, really-stick thin like she was, a plate on either side of the bar meant that she was probably pressing more than her body weight. As he watched, she finished the set and turned off the music. He decided not to go over and say anything; anybody who pushed themselves that hard in the gym was entitled to a few eccentricities, and after all there weren't many people around to be bothered.

He had turned back to his own weight when the music started up again. Looking back, he saw that the weight on the bar had doubled, and the girl was pressing it up and down just as smoothly as she had been before. He watched as the girl went through the routine: stop the music, add a plate to each side, start the music, lift it a few times, rinse and repeat. He was jolted out of his trance when his buddy Joe elbowed him in the side.

"Is that some new Alexandria-package cape fucking with us, or what?"

"I'll go talk to her. You stay here."

Mitch gave Joe a warning glare, and held his gaze until he nodded. Joe was a good guy, but he'd been a meathead since high school. He hadn't adjusted so well to a world where you never knew if the scrawny guy that was mouthing off to you had some superpower that let him throw buildings around for fun.

Mitch walked over and waited for the girl to finish the latest cycle of her routine. He figured she was probably about done anyway; she was just about out of space on the bar. After she turned off the music, he cleared his throat. She blinked as she looked up at him, almost as though she was just waking up.

"If you need more of a challenge," Mitch said, "the Protectorate has a gym their brutes use to stay in shape."

"What? No, I'm not... huh?" The girl said, trailing off when she turned around and saw the bar drooping under the weight that had been loaded onto it.

"New cape?" Mitch asked, feeling a bit of sympathy now that it didn't look like the girl was pulling some kind of prank.

"No, no," the girl said, waving her hands in front of herself in denial, before slumping down in defeat after another look at the weight behind her. "Well, maybe. Don't tell anyone, please?"

"Your secret is safe with me," Mitch said. He had a policy about aggravating people who could fold him in half: don't. "Do you need anything else, while you're here?"

"Maybe," the girl said, looking around. "I feel like I need... do you guys have a self-defense class?"

ooOoo

"I think I should spar with him, then him, then him, then maybe you," the girl, who had eventually gotten around to introducing herself as Taylor, said.

"Taylor, that's really not how learning this stuff works," Mitch said, as politely as he could.

"Please," she asked, "I just really feel like that's what I need to do."

She stared up at him pleadingly, looking not at all like somebody who had been lifting half a ton earlier that morning. Mitch sighed.

"Fine, but I'm stopping it as soon as you look like you're not controlling your strength. You could hurt somebody, and you won't learn anything if you're just powering through people."

"Thanks, you're the best! I'll be careful," Taylor promised, before trotting off to the center of the mats. Dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, she was an awkward collection of skinny arms and legs that didn't look at all threatening. Rick, the white belt she had chosen for the first match, had hardly had any training, but at least knew enough to hold himself in an athletic stance.

After all is said and done / You've never walked, you've never run/ you're a winner.

Taylor and Rick close for an awkward exchange of blows. Rick manages to land a solid punch to the chin, and Taylor takes a step back before rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

You got the moves, you know the streets / Break the rules, take the heat / You're nobody's fool.

Taylor and one of the intermediate students bow to each other, then close to arm's reach. Taylor redirects a punch aimed for her midsection, then grabs the green belt her opponent is wearing and throws him over her hip. He scrambles back to his feet, looking at her with newfound respect.

You're at the best when the goin' gets rough / You've been put to the test, but it's never enough

Taylor and the assistant instructor engage in a complicated series of punch, block, and counter attack that goes on for a good thirty seconds. It finally ends as they each launch a devastating strike and stop, pulling up with their fist a half inch from their opponent's nose. They step back and bow to each other.

You got the touch / You got the power!

Mitch groans as he tries to land a finger on his opponent. It's like fighting smoke-every time he throws a punch it misses by a whisker, and Taylor has already slipped inside his guard several times to land a jab to the body. She's pulling her punches, or else the fight would be over already. Finally he gambles, throwing his weight into a haymaker. Taylor grabs the outstretched arm and quickly has him in a submission hold.

As soon as Mitch tapped out to signal his concession, Taylor let him up and shook his hand. That done, she walked over to her boombox and turned off the music. When she looked up, she saw the whole class staring at her.

"What? I don't care what anybody says, the Transformers movie was a classic."

ooOoo

"And who are you, to be so foolish as to attack me?" Lung asked, and I blinked in surprise. Before, I had had a hard time making out his words due to his accent, but I could have sworn it was the accent of somebody who had learned English late in life. Now his voice carried the accent of somebody born to the upper crust of British society. I put the discrepancy out of my mind as I pointed at him dramatically.

"You don't deserve to know my name!"

One of his flunkies had come close and tried to grab me by the arm. It was a simple matter to pull it back and catch him in the chin with a straight right. As he spun around and fell to the ground unconscious, a hush fell over the gang.

The second one to come after me had some skill. His leg snapped out to block my kick, first shin height, then waist high, then head height. We paused for a second, and I glanced around to see that the other members of the gang had formed a circle around us. Then I pushed off with my plant foot into a back flip, catching him under the chin and lifting him into the air with the momentum of the kick.

Flipping into the air also let me avoid the staff that had just been thrust at my back. Reaching down, I grabbed the weapon and used it to redirect my momentum, bringing my feet down on the head of its wielder and knocking him out of the fight.

I stood and brought the staff to bear just in time to catch an attack from a guy wielding a pair of nunchuks. The first bounced off of the staff with the sharp crack of wood against wood; as he angled the second attack I shifted my position slightly so that the chain wrapped around the staff. I yanked it forward to pull him off balance and planted my foot in his stomach, releasing the staff to let him go flying back and out of the circle.

They came at me two or three at a time, and I felt like laughing with joy as my power rushed through me and I set them down almost as quickly as they stepped forward. I had never had a chance to completely lose myself in the moment like this, and it was intoxicating.

All too soon I was down to the last thug. This one had a katana and some idea how to use it. I was forced to dodge again and again as he kept pressing me, looking for the decisive blow. He thought he had it as he brought the blade down in an overhead chop, right up until I clapped my hands together on either side of the flat of the blade and halted its forward motion.

He stared at me in disbelief until a standing roundhouse kick knocked him out of the action. His fall to the ground was punctuated by a slow series of claps. I looked up and was surprised to see Lung applauding my success.

"You have earned the chance to face me in combat," he said, still with that English accent. It was hard to tell under the mask, but his voice seemed slightly out of sync with the movements of his mouth. I could only guess that it was some side effect of his powers. "I hope you prove worthy. It has been too long since I've had a chance to exert myself."

"You're going to do more than exert yourself," I said, feeling the approving thrum of my power at the display of confidence. "You're going to lose."

He stepped closer and, despite the reassuring presence of my power, I felt some doubt. Since I had last seen him he had grown six inches in height, and a similar degree in width. Silvery scales had started to emerge from his skin, starting the process of forming armor that was reputed to withstand small arms fire. He was a monster.

He was also quite skilled, I discovered after our first exchange. I had managed to sneak one punch past his defenses, to little effect. In exchange, he had forced me to squarely block a straight kick to the gut. I allowed it to send me into a backflip rather than trying to absorb all of the momentum at once.

There was nothing for it but to try again. I charged forward, only to be forced to go into a low roll when the punch he snapped out was accompanied by a stream of flame. I redirected my momentum into a spin kick, but Lung simply lifted his leg up at an angle and absorbed the blow on his shin. The kick would have sent most people flying; Lung barely flinched before sending another punch my way with an accompanying plume of fire.

I leapt backwards, chased by several tongues of flame. They were easy to avoid as long as I kept my distance, but I could hardly hope to hurt Lung if I couldn't get close. I was going to have to change things up. As I cartwheeled away from his latest fire attack I grabbed the handle of the katana that I had discarded earlier. I finished the cartwheel with an upward slice from the katana aimed at Lung's wrist.

He snatched his hand back, then leaned out of the way of my follow up thrust. For such big opponent he was unnaturally quick. He ducked out of the way of another slice. I followed up with a horizontal swipe at hip level, confident that he wouldn't be able to get out of the way. I was right: he caught it with his bare hand.

The sound rang out like steel hitting steel, which wasn't too far off. His hand was covered with the silvery armor. As I watched, his hand started to glow, heating the metal of the sword until it had weakened enough for him to snap the blade right off.

"You cannot hope to defeat the might of the Dragon Fist."

I took advantage of his boasting to plant my foot on his knee, kicking off into a series of handsprings that took me halfway down the block. The force of the kick only staggered him slightly, but it was enough to keep him in place for the moment. I needed to try something new.

Guided by my power, I reached into my pocket and pulled out three throwing stars. I wondered for a second where they had come from-I certainly had never bought them-before I remembered snatching them out of the air after one of Lung's thugs tried to attack from a distance.

I threw the throwing stars off at an oblique angle and charged forward. I was dimly aware of them clanging off of the iron gutter pipe of one of the nearby apartments as Lung directed a stream of fire my way. I leapt up into the air, dodging the fire without slowing my charge. Lung sent another attack at me, intensifying the fire now that I had committed to an angle of attack. At the same time, the first of the shuriken reached me. As it suddenly dawned on me where my power had been guiding me, I came to the sudden realization that I was about to die.

Still, following my power's lead had worked so far. I kicked out, making contact with the shuriken and changing the angle of my headlong leap with no regard for the laws of physics. Lung attacked once more, but the next shuriken had arrived and I pushed off of it with my other foot, zig-zagging towards the demonic figure ahead of me.

I was level with his head by now-nearly eight feet off the ground-and he opened his mouth and roared. The roar was accompanied by a geyser of flame, headed straight for my face. Fortunately, the third shuriken reached me just before I was turned into a crispy Taylor. I kicked almost straight down at it, diverting my course up in the air over Lung's head, tucking in my whole body except for my right foot as I spun around.

I caught a glimpse of my foot just before it hit, and I could have sworn it was glowing. It may have been a trick of the light, what with all the flame Lung was throwing around. Still, it hit his head with the force of a meteor.

The shockwave from the blow was almost visible as a ripple in the air. The nearby apartment buildings shuddered, and the few remaining unbroken windows shattered. Lung went down hard, while the force of the kick sent me flipping back the other way. I landed on my feet about twenty feet away from him, close enough to see the spiderwebs his head left in the concrete from the impact.

I was breathing hard, feeling a strange mix of exhaustion, exhiliration, and terror rushing through my body. The feelings of terror were receding with the thrill of victory, and I felt a grin breaking out on my face. Taking out Lung on my first real night as a cape was more than I had had any right to hope for.

Then he moved.

First his left arm, then his right. He punched down into the ground hard enough for me to feel it where I was standing, then slowly levered himself upright. He stared at me for a long minute once he was upright, then threw his head back and roared.

A firestorm covered him from head to toe as he roared. The sound seemed to go on forever, but it couldn't have been more than a minute or two before he subsided, and the flames disappeared.

If Lung had been demonic looking before, now he was a demon. Covered from head to toe in silvery scales, he stood a good foot taller than he had just a minute ago. A pair of wings loomed up behind him, and a thick tail dragged behind him on the ground, leaving visible grooves in the concrete as he swept it bak and forth. His jaws had split and elongated to the point that he was hardly recognizable.

Despite myself, I took a step back, then another. I had the sinking feeling that I had just given my best shot and it wasn't enough. I didn't think I could win. Ignoring the protests of my power, I turned and started to run away.

I felt it immediately. The strength, the high I had been feeling, all started to drain away as my power fought against my actions. It was debilitating-nearly as bad as the pain that I felt as Lung smashed into me with his tail.

I went flying face first into a brick wall, smashing a sizable imprint of myself on contact. I managed to turn myself around as I fell so that I landed on my hands and knees, then lifted my head. Lung hadn't pressed his advantage, content to watch.

He didn't just want to kill me; he wanted to break me.

Well, nuts to that. I might not be able to overcome Lung's monstrous power, but I hadn't come all this way just to let another bully break my spirit. If I was going to die here, I was going to die fighting.

I forced myself to my feet, feeling the hum of my power rising once more in my heart. I turned and spat out a mouthful of blood, and my power started to spread through my body. Slowly I brought my hands together in front of my body and cracked my knuckles. My power was singing through my veins. I smiled.

"Let's get wild."

Looking back on it, that was the moment when things started to get out of hand.

ooOoo 


	2. Chapter 2

AN: The crack, it compels me. As before, if you laugh, please review and let me know what worked for you.

ooOoo

Director Piggot looked up from the report she was reading when she heard a knock on her office door. As the head of the Brockton Bay branch of the PRT-the nationwide organization of parahuman heroes that was the first and only line of defense between the United States and a cape-ruled wasteland-she was expected to make the final decision on any new applicants to join the team. She had expected this particular entrant to be an easy approval, but there were some inconsistencies in the file that warranted follow up.

Armsmaster entered the office precisely three seconds after the knock. He was, of course, precisely on time for their meeting. The man's predictable behavior was something of a comfort to Piggot in a world that so often seemed on the verge of turning upside down. He could be difficult to deal with-he really had the bare minimum of social ability required of the leader of the parahuman side of the Protectorate-but he and Piggot had the same feelings about many of the little things like punctuality, decorum, the chain of command. It helped their working relationship tremendously.

"These numbers," Piggot said, gesturing to the file. "They seem a little off for somebody who went toe to toe with Lung for two hours."

"Ms. Hebert explained that in extreme circumstances she can," Armsmaster began, shaking his head as though he couldn't believe what he was about to say, "summon the power of the human spirit to reinforce her abilities."

"Some kind of breaker ability?" Piggot asked.

"If it is, it's not one she can deploy consistently," Armsmaster said. "I thought that putting her in mortal peril to test the claim would be going above and beyond for a preliminary battery of tests."

His tone was dry, and Piggot smiled briefly to show that she appreciated the joke-and his good judgment.

"How do you think she'll fit in with the rest of the Wards?" Piggot asked. No matter how powerful the cape, they wouldn't be much good if they couldn't get along with the rest of the team. If there was a real problem the Protectorate could suggest that Taylor transfer to a different city.

"They like her well enough," Armsmaster said. "I'll admit I'm a little worried at how her power interacts with theirs, though none of them seemed to show much concern."

"The shaker ability?" Piggot asked. "I wondered what that was about."

"For one thing, I believe it explains the events that led to the formal ban from citywide competitions that were imposed on the Winslow High debate team, chess team, and rhythmic gymnastics squad," Armsmaster said, before drawing a disc from one of his utility compartments. "As to the interaction with the others, I think it's something you should see for yourself."

Piggot accepted the disc and inserted it into her computer. A moment later, the video began playing.

ooOoo

"Come on, one more time!" Clockblocker's voice had moved from pleading to the edge of whining. "Just one more."

I sighed. "I think everybody else is getting tired-"

"No, no, do it again!" Vista interrupted. The rest of the Wards nodded enthusiastically, or at least didn't object.

Looked like we were doing another demonstration. I guess it did look kind of neat, but with the way my life had been going lately it was a little hard to get excited about things that I used to find really cool.

Shrugging, I reached for the pouch at my belt. Six throwing knives were there that I definitely didn't bring with me into the building. Of course. All of this sparring was ramping up my power. I wasn't sure quite where this was going to go, but they did want to see something neat.

I brought my hand around and flung the knives towards Clockblocker in a single motion. Each was precisely aimed at a spot where it would disable him without risk of serious injury. Because of the spin and the difference in trajectory each knife would arrive at a slightly different time.

Clockblocker's eyes widened when he saw the knives headed his way, but he relaxed when the first one drew near and hit the edge of the effect. The knife and Clockblocker were both moving in slow motion as he leaned to the left, letting it pass by him. He leaned back to the right to avoid the next knife. He repeated the process for the second set of knives, leaning over backward to let one pass over his head, then a little further back. As the last knife sailed by without hitting him he finally lost his balance and fell over on his back.

"Not bad," I said, and I meant it. Even with time to think about what you were doing, dodging like that was no joke.

"Wait, something else is happening."

Clockblocker kipped up to his feet in a single motion before launching into a smoothly flowing progression of kicks and punches that I recognized as a tiger-form kata. He snapped out the final punch with gusto, holding the pose at the end with a display of strength and balance that would have been well beyond him before I walked into the room.

"I know kung fu!"

Well, there was only one response to that. I took up a defensive stance, holding out my left hand, palm up, before gesturing him forward.

He charged forward, only to learn an unfortunate truth about my power: though it increased your fighting ability relative to an absolute baseline, it did the same to everybody else. Our initial exhange of blows was a rapid fire exchange of punches that would have been a blur to everybody else in the room, but I was able to easily block each attack at the forearm, not allowing any portion of myself within range of his bare hands.

The only tricky part was at the end. We both seemed to be moving through syrup as time slowed down when he launched his final attack. I was just able to rotate around the axis of the punch-I could feel the breeze from the displaced air on my cheek-but I was able to slide into position to launch a counter-attack. Time resumed normal speed as soon as I planted my heel into his chest, and I was careful to aim him at the padded section of the wall as I sent him flying across the room.

I had only a second to settle down from the end of the fight before an arrow appeared in the ground by my feet. I looked up to see Shadow Stalker staring at me intently. Once she saw she had my attention, she tossed her crossbow off to the side.

"If you're done playing around, I'd like to see how you handle a real opponent."

ooOoo

Piggot glanced up at Armsmaster sharply.

"Is this a joke?"

"I don't joke," Armsmaster replied.

"Who subtitled our surveillance recordings?" Piggot asked?

"The electronic file has not been altered," Armsmaster replied. "But if you're asking who is responsible..."

He gestured toward the figure on screen. Piggot stared at the frozen display for a moment before shaking her head.

"The shaker ability?"

Armsmaster nodded.

"That could be useful," Piggot said, thinking aloud. "Real time communication-and if it translates languages, even better."

"I'm afraid that it only works on 'combat banter'," Armsmaster said. He even formed the little air quotes with his hands. "I tested it out myself."

"Could I-"

"All copies of the recording have been destroyed," Armaster interrupted.

Piggot looked at him carefully. Was that a blush on his cheeks? Also, now that she thought about it...

"When did you add the shoulder spikes to your armor?"

"All copies of the recording have been destroyed," Armaster repeated.

Piggot shrugged. No point completely destroying the man's pride-although she was definitely keeping this tidbit filed away for later use.

"I think I've seen enough," she said instead. "Where is Ms. Hebert now?"

"The rest of the Wards took her out to lunch," Armsmaster said. He seemed happy about the change in subject. "I'll send her to see you when they return."

ooOoo

Fugly Bob's is something of an institution in Brockton Bay. It's not the nicest restaurant, but if you decide that you just want to ignore your diet and have a burger, it's definitely the place to go. The Wards were treating me to an introductory lunch, which was nice. We were going in our civilian guises, which was even nicer. I was blown away by the sign of trust.

The Wards mostly downplayed it. They knew I wanted to join, and they figured I was a shoo-in after the thing with Lung. I wasn't so sure-I knew the Protectorate usually tried to avoid collateral damage-but it was nice to have somebody believe in me that way.

Shadow Stalker seemed a little more hostile. She hadn't even tagged along for lunch, although that was understandable, considering how our fight had turned out.

We had just settled down to look at the menu-well, most of us were, Dennis was enthusiastically reenacting our little spar using the pepper and salt shakers, which I thought was a little silly since everybody had been there to see it happen-when we were interrupted.

"I challenge you!"

We all turned to look at the source of the shout. It turned out to be a boy about our age. Maybe a couple years older, he certainly had the build of a man. Broad shoulders, the kind of practical muscle built up through a hard life rather than a gym, all topped off by a strong, handsome face. You know, if you were into that kind of thing. It looked like he had more smile lines than anything else, but at the moment his expression was stern. He didn't falter under the combined scrutiny of the Wards.

"I can see by how you carry yourself that you are a master martial artist, and I can't stand to do anything else until I have a chance to test myself against you."

I took another look at the boy. From his stance I would have said he was a boxer, but the calluses on his hands spoke of extensive training in other forms of the martial arts. A purely professional evaluation of his thighs suggested that he hadn't neglected training his lower body, either. This might actually be interesting.

"Taylor, do you want us to, uh..." Dennis trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

I looked over at him, surprised. All of the Wards were looking at me with expressions of concern. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Don't worry guys, there's no problem," I said, then leaned forward and lowered my voice. "This kind of thing happens when I've been fighting a lot. You get used to it. Actually, the interruptions aren't always so handsome-benign, benign. Sometimes it can be annoying, but I'll be fine."

The rest of the Wards sat back, their expressions now less concerned and more amused. Well, that slip of the tongue was a little embarrassing, but I put it to the back of my mind. I had more important things to worry about now.

I stood and addressed my challenger.

"Very well, I accept your challenge. But!" I said, pointing at him dramatically. "If you lose, you're paying for lunch."

He didn't say anything, but he did smile as he bowed. I only spent a second contemplating how the smile made him look closer to my age-it was almost cute-before I returned the bow. With that, the battle was joined.

ooOoo

I did my best to maintain a professional demeanor as I walked into Director Piggot's office. Lunch had been great, and I thought I might be on my way to making my first real friends since Emma's betrayal. Brian-the boy who had interrupted our meal-had unfortunately been in no fit state to pay for lunch after our fight, but his friend had given me his number so we could arrange for lunch in the future. I wasn't sure I completely trusted her, but really the fight was its own reward. Lunch was just a nice bonus.

Director Piggot didn't seem to be in a similarly cheery mood. She fixed me with a serious look as soon as I walked in the door, and gestured for me to sit down in the chair in front of her desk without saying anything. I complied, and we sat in silence for a time as she seemed to consider what to say.

"Ms. Hebert, can you explain the bill I just received from Fugly Bob's?" She asked. Her voice was noticeably less welcoming that it had been this morning when I arrived at the Wards' base.

"Well, that's where we went for lunch, and-"

"My understanding is that lunch bills do not typically include window replacement."

"Well, my power sometimes leads to certain... situations." I tried to explain. I actually didn't think the window was one hundred percent my fault. Dennis had been sitting closest to the window, and when I tossed Brian through it the resulting glass shards had taken a suspiciously long time to settle on the ground. I guess the whole situation was ultimately my fault still, technically.

"Learning to control these 'situations'"-god, she even used air quotes-"will be an important part of your time with the Wards."

I didn't even register the rest of the warning that the Director delivered. All of that stuff was just details. What really mattered was that I was in!

"Oh, thank you, thank you, I promise you won't regret this-"

"Ms. Hebert, control yourself," she snapped at me. "So help me, if you don't learn to follow the rules and limit collateral damage I will beat some sense into your head myself!"

She slapped her hand down on her desk in emphasis, and the whole desk split in half. As the collected paperwork, pens, and computer paraphernalia rained down on the floor, the Director stared at her hand for a moment, then brought it up to massage her temples.

I scratched the back of my head, not sure what to do with my hands.

"Sorry about this."

ooOoo 


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Dedicated to Grue, Worm's token Action Chick. Poor guy got to be cool for like 5% of canon.

ooOoo

The Wards were subdued as they walked into the meeting room. Aegis had suffered the heaviest damage-his powers lent themselves to a reckless style of fighting that often led to a gruesome aftermath-but Chris, Dennis, and Taylor were all looking a little worse for wear.

The glare they were receiving from Director Piggot did little to improve their spirits.

"That was a fiasco," she told them.

"Yes ma'am. They got away," Aegis admitted. "We did stop them from taking everything they wanted, though."

"The bank's money is very low on my list of priorities," Piggot snapped, "you might even go so far as to suggest I don't care about it."

"Director-" Aegis started. He didn't get a chance to finish.

"What I care about is the public perception of capes. Your wildly irresponsible behavior-not to mention the resulting property damage-jeopardizes everything we've worked so hard to build," Piggot said. "Without public support for capes, the funding we need to keep you Wards, the Protectorate and the PRT squads paid and equipped will dry up. Your actions have broader consequences than you seem to appreciate."

"I couldn't just stand aside and let them get away with robbery," Taylor said. "Fighting crime is the whole reason I joined up."

"Ah, yes," Director Piggot said, rounding on the Wards' newest recruit. "I suppose I should wait to withhold judgment until I hear from the person who started the whole thing."

Despite her conciliatory choice of words, her tone of voice made it clear that she wasn't interested in letting Taylor talk her way off the hook. Taylor looked down at the ground for a minute to gather her thoughts before she started to speak.

"Well, I was in the bank, waiting in line to deposit my paycheck and minding my own business..."

ooOoo

Grue grinned underneath his helmet as he kicked open the door leading to the bank lobby. He had been hesitant to agree to such a risky job, but taking the leap into the big leagues was undeniably exciting. He strode into the room alongside Browbeat. Bitch, Tattletale, and Regent trailed behind the two of them, while Bitch's dogs made up the rear of the group.

"Everybody down on the ground, now!" Browbeat called out, striding towards the center of the lobby as the rest of the team came to a stop alongside the tellers.

Browbeat was the most physically intimidating member of their group, so it made sense to have him be the one getting the hostages to comply. Also, the copy of Management for Dummies that Grue kept squirreled away in his apartment suggested that new hires should be given some kind of symbolically important task to ensure that they knew they were valued members of the team.

"If you don't do anything stupid, you won't get hurt-" Browbeat was walking through the middle of the group of bank patrons turned hostages when one of them moved. Grue saw the brief flash of a foot slicing through the air before it struck Browbeat in the midsection, sending him flying back into the opposite wall. Grue winced in sympathy-Browbeat was able to use his point blank telekinesis to shield himself from incoming blows, but if he was caught by surprise he only had his enhanced musculature to protect him from injury. He had bounced off of the wall and landed on his knees, and was not quick to get to his feet.

"He should have taken his own advice," the girl said, cracking her knuckles as she turned to face the rest of the Undersiders. The other hostages scurried out of the way, giving Grue his first clear look at their adversary.

The girl's face wasn't exactly conventionally attractive, but something about the devil-may-care grin she was wearing in the face of a fight with five other people called out to him. Her build was long and lean, and though she was rather casually positioned, her well balance stance suggested a healthy command of martial arts. As did the crater Browbeat had left in the wall.

Grue smiled, though she couldn't see it under the helmet, and assumed his own defensive stance, gesturing the girl forward. She obliged, dark curls bouncing as she charged in. When she had covered about half the distance between them her leg kicked out awkwardly, sending her into a diagonal roll courtesy of Regent's interference. Grue threw out an area of darkness to cover her, and saw the roll become noticeably less graceful as his power interfered with hers. She still managed to pop to her feet, but some of the confidence seemed to have left her as she took up a defensive stance, surrounded by complete darkness.

"You all right?" Grue called out to Browbeat, who was in the middle of a painful looking back stretch. While he might look musclebound, his biokinesis granted him a surprising level of flexibility.

"Yeah," Browbeat replied, shaking his head ruefully. "Most of the damage seems to be concentrated in my ego."

"That's how you learn," Grue said, walking over and clapping the newest Undersider on the shoulder. Fortunately, the bank patrons had followed their natural instincts at the prospect of being near a cape fight and frozen in place, so they were still on track to pull this off. "Ok everybody, stick to the plan. I'll take care of our uninvited guest."

Grue strode out into his cloud of darkness without waiting for acknowledgement from his team. They weren't the type to call out "yes, sir" in response to orders, but they were responsible enough to do what needed to be done. As the leader, it was his job to deal with the unexpected.

The girl hadn't moved since she stood other than to shuffle over and put the wall at her back. Grue nodded his approval. That was the smart thing to do when you couldn't rely on your senses. Unfortunately for her, she was the only one of the two of them fighting blind.

Grue stopped when he was standing within arm's reach of the girl, positioned off to the side and out of her reach. He took a second to size up his target before launching a punch at the side of her head. She was obviously a cape of some kind, so he didn't hold back much. If she could cheerfully go toe to toe with Browbeat, he didn't want to face her in anything like a fair fight.

She moved just before his punch landed home. His darkness blocked out sight and sound-his best guess was that she felt the air pressure that built up ahead of his fist-and her reaction was too late to avoid being hit altogether. It only staggered her for a split second, though, and she reacted with a roundhouse kick that swept the entire space in front of her at approximately his height.

Grue leaned back, but her foot caught his helmet just under his chin, sending it flying. He rubbed his exposed jaw, surprised to find himself smiling. This fight was going to be interesting.

Fighting strong opponents was how you got better, after all, and he had the advantage that he didn't even really have to win. All he had to do was stall until the rest of his team was ready to go.

ooOoo

"... and after that I was stuck in the darkness, so I didn't really see what was going on in the bank."

Director Piggot's gaze bored into Taylor's eyes. "And what, exactly, were you thinking when you decided to pick a fight with five other parahumans in the room?"

"He was terrorizing everybody! I had to stop him," Taylor said, meeting Piggot's eyes for a moment. Then she dropped her head and mumbled something under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I said, he also delivered like, the perfect straight line," Taylor said, blushing slightly as the rest of the Wards turned to stare at her.

"A straight line," Piggot repeated, flatly.

"You know, when somebody sets you up with a line that just demands a punch in the face," Taylor replied.

"I am familiar with the concept," Piggot said. "I am confused as to how it could control your behavior in a hostage situation."

The rest of the Wards looked similarly confused. Well, other than Dennis, who looked like he was trying not to giggle.

"Ever since I triggered, when I hear a good straight line, I just get this urge..." Taylor said, waving her hands vaguely in the air. "I mean, it's not like it controls my body or anything. It's more like... you know how when you hear the start of Come Sail Away you have to finish singing the whole thing?"

"No," Piggot said, crossing her arms over her chest and continuing to look at Taylor with disapproval, until she was distracted by another one of her charges.

"I'm sailing away," Dennis didn't have much of a singing voice, and the note of suppressed laughter in his voice didn't help matters. "Set an open-"

"Not the time, Dennis," Piggot said, then turned to look at Taylor. She was visibly struggling to control herself, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times before finally pulling herself together. There was a pregnant pause.

"See, it's not totally uncontrollable," Taylor said, as if the situation had somehow vindicated her. "But it's like scratching an itch. And I didn't really see any reason not to kick that jerk in the head when he was in the middle of robbing a bank."

"Anyways," Piggot said, after heaving the long-suffering sigh that served as a backdrop for most of Taylor's debriefings, "I think it's time we heard from the next person who entered the bank."

"That would be me, I guess," Chris said, not sounding particularly eager to jump in. "This is a little hard to explain..."

ooOoo

Regent dragged an office chair out from what must have been a mortgage officer's cubicle to the main floor. Plopping himself down, he surveyed the area. The remaining hostages were all seated on the marble floor. One of Bitch's dogs-Bentley, he was pretty sure-was standing in front of the doors leading out of the lobby, while the other was guarding the entrance to the back of the bank where the rest of the team was robbing the vault.

The teller stations were all shrouded in perfect darkness where Grue and their party crasher were apparently still duking it out. Regent wasn't worried. Grue could handle himself. Plus, if he lost, the rest of them could hold it over his head for months after they bailed him out.

"Ok guys, here's the deal. The two of them," he said, gesturing at the two dogs, "they like me just fine, but they won't listen if I try to call them off of someone. So don't do anything to set them off, and we'll all be just fine."

Predictably, the hostages all turned to stare at the giant creatures. Regent gave them a few seconds just to absorb the sheer size of them before he continued.

"They don't really like it when people stare at them," he said. It wasn't really true-as far as he could tell, Brutus loved attention-but it was funny how everybody's eyes suddenly snapped back down to the floor. "I recommend you just meditate or take a nap or whatever. We'll be out of your hair soon enough."

They all seemed thoroughly cowed, which was good. He didn't have the kind of power that really lent itself to crowd control. He was pretty sure the dogs would jump in to help out if there was a real problem, but he was happy not to have to test that theory.

All was silent in the lobby for at least five minutes. Whatever Grue and that girl were doing, his darkness was preventing the sound from disturbing the lobby. Regent was just starting to wish he had brought a book or something when a section of the wall collapsed.

A figure stepped inside, silhouetted briefly by the sunlight outside. It took Regent a second to place him. The costume was familiar, but it wasn't somebody you expected to see walking around, and the glowing sword in his hands was a new touch-though it did explain the tidy edges in the hole that had been carved into the wall.

"Kid Fail," Regent commented, lazily rising to his feet. "You ditched the blaster?"

Kid Win didn't respond to the dig at his name, and his voice was calm as he replied.

"I thought a more elegant weapon would be appropriate," he said, gesturing at the sword in his hand. "It did prove effective at creating a new escape route for the hostages."

The bank customers took the hint and started streaming Kid Win towards the new exit. Regent reached out, attempting to trip the man in front and block the way, but the guy executed a nifty roll and backflipped his way outside. Regent frowned. Just his luck he'd hit a parkour enthusiast.

Brutus watched the hostages walk out, content as long as none of them approached the door he was guarding.

Regent resigned himself to let the hostages go. The Undersiders didn't really need them to get away, and he couldn't afford to split his attention if this fight turned serious. Not that he needed to let his opponent know that he was receiving much respect.

"You know, even with all those cute little gadgets you carry around," Regent said, "you're no match for the power of a real cape."

Kid Win didn't respond, striding forward towards Regent. Regent wanted no part of that glowing sword, and with a casual gesture he forced the Wards's right hand to open. The sword went flying, until Kid Win made a gesture and it floated back into his hand. With his other hand he made a pushing motion, and Regent found himself thrown backwards.

He scrambled to his feet just in time to intercept a sword strike with his scepter. Sparks leapt where the two weapons met, and each combatant struggled to push back the other.

"Not as flashy as the hoverboard, but I think the new application of my repulsor technology is pretty effective," Kid Win said, his voice showing some strain as he bore down on Regent.

Regent knew he wasn't built to win battles of strength. He made a mental note to stop half-assing his training sessions with Brian, then took a chance. Pivoting around, he stopped trying to hold Kid Win back, instead sliding out of the way and tripping the other boy as he passed by.

Acting on instinct, Regent brought his tazer to bear and pulled the trigger. Instead of the simple shock that he expected, a veritable storm of lightning leapt from the end of his scepter to attack the downed Ward. Kid Win managed to roll himself over and intercept much of the attack on his sword, but he definitely looked the worse for wear. Regent pulled the trigger again, and this time the lightning got through unimpeded.

He stared at his opponent, panting. Kid Win was scorched, but the rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was still alive. He'd won, for what it was worth.

Regent looked around at the empty lobby. Grue was going to give him hell for this.

ooOoo

"Where did you get a lights-"

"Laser sword," Piggot said, interrupting Dennis before pausing to glare at the assembled Wards. "Or do we need to repeat our intellectual property training."

The Wards all hastened to shake their heads, a chill running down their spines at the thought. One of the prominent examples their lecturer had been used was the story of the cape who had called himself Jedi.

Once.

Satisfied that her point had been made, Piggot turned back to Chris. "Though I must admit, I share his curiosity, particularly since I don't remember seeing any of the paperwork required for the approval of a new weapon."

"I don't know," Chris said, apparently oblivious to the veiled threat in the director's words. "I reached for my pistol, and there it was. It did come in handy getting the hostages out, though."

"I wonder," Taylor said, thinking out loud. "I always did think it was a little odd that so many of Lung's guys had katanas."

"You believe this to be related to your shaker abilities," Piggot asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe. I don't know how it would make a light-laser sword," Taylor said, shrugging. "But maybe it just doesn't like guns or something."

The Director seemed a little disconcerted by Taylor's suggestion that her power had a mind of its own, but she pushed the discomfort to the side to continue the debriefing.

"Carlos, I believe you were the next one in?"

"Yeah," Carlos said, his shoulders slumping. "Um, this is a little embarassing."

ooOoo

Brutus's tail wagged. All of the people were leaving. None came close to his door. Brutus is a good guard!

The small man is in a fight. Brutus wants to help, but Master said to guard the door. Brutus's tail stopped wagging.

The small man won! Master was smart. Every member of the pack had job. Brutus's tail wagged.

The world flipped upside down. Brutus was ten feet in air when he realized his back hurt. Someone hit Brutus!

Brutus tucked legs close to body to finish flip. Brutus landed on three paws, one leg stretched out for balance. Floor cracked under Brutus.

New man in costume is standing in doorway. Costume man is attacking the pack! Brutus growled.

Brutus bounded forward. Costume man swing fist at Brutus, but Brutus stretch low under attack and sweep at man's legs.

Costume man rise up in air, but not see Angelica. She passes over his head and kicks down. Costume man falls down, right into Brutus's uppercut.

Angelica lands, then kicks into backflip. She kicks costume man out of air again.

Brutus's tail thumps against the floor once before he bounds off after costume man. Brutus is a good boy!

ooOoo

"... and then my limbs went numb and I was out of most of the rest of the fight," Carlos concluded.

"Sounds like a pressure point attack," Taylor said, thinking out loud. Seeing the rest of her team looking at her in confusion, she explained. "It's an advanced technique that suppresses the connection between mind, body, and spirit. I've wondered if it's something you could adapt to."

The Wards had learned to give Taylor the benefit of the doubt when it came to outlandish martial arts techniques. That didn't mean that they were just going to let this situation go, though.

"And a dog could do that?" Dennis asked, skeptical.

"Most dogs don't have the patience to learn kung fu at all," Taylor said, shrugging. "If you could get past that hurdle, I don't see why they couldn't learn the harder stuff."

She looked around, taking in the incredulous stares of her teammates. "What?"

"Ms. Hebert," Director Piggot said, "I sincerely doubt the dogs had any martial arts ability at all before they set foot in that bank."

"What? Hey!" Taylor said. "Look, when we went out for karaoke and it turned out to be a front for an underground fighting tournament, I took the blame. And Missy's birthday party... I am so, so, sorry about what happened. I-"

"Her mother has been released from the psych ward, by the way," Director Piggot interrupted. "They say she'll make a full recovery as long as she isn't exposed to any more balloon animals."

"I'm glad. And I hope some day she lets me apologize in person. But!" Taylor said, pointing an accusing finger at the Director. "I didn't join this team just so you could blame me any time something weird happens! Hellhound makes her dogs grow, who's to say she doesn't make them smarter? Then enroll them in a local dojo..."

Taylor trailed off, looking around the room.

"You guys aren't buying this at all, are you?"

The Wards all shook their heads.

"I did think the kung fu dogs were pretty cool, though," Dennis said, putting a comforting hand on Taylor's shoulder.

"That reminds me, Dennis," Director Piggot said, "what exactly were you doing while Carlos was keeping the Undersiders busy?"

"Well..."

ooOoo

Tattletale typed away at the computer, barely pausing to read as screen after screen of data flashed by on the monitor. She had... well, hacked was too strong of a word. Accessing the PRT's video monitoring system was a challenge, even with her ability to intuit all of their passwords. Getting into the bank's business from the bank manager's personal computer was like taking candy from a baby in comparison. Really expensive candy.

It was so easy she almost felt guilty about using her power to do it. Of course, if she was the type to feel guilty about something like that she probably wouldn't have been robbing a bank in the first place.

"Looks like your time is up."

She looked up to see a white-clad figure standing in the doorway, animated clocks drifting across his uniform. In the same motion she drew the gun from her utility belt and snapped off six shots. The nice instructor at the firing range always said that if it was worth shooting, it was worth shooting more than once.

She didn't expect to actually hurt Clockblocker. She also didn't expect the bullets to slow down until they were visible in the air as they approached him. He ducked out of the way, bending over further and further backwards until he wound up on his back as the last bullet flew by without hitting him.

Tattletale just stared at him for a minute, the only sound in the room the ringing in her ears caused by the gun shots.

"What the hell? You shot at me," Clockblocker said, sounding more indignant than scared."

"Sorry, that's how I always react to terrible one-liners," Tattletale replied absently, trying to figure out what had just happened. Localized temporal distortions had never been part of Clockblocker's toolset. Had he been sandbagging on his abilities all this time, only pretending to need to touch things? No, that didn't feel right. Maybe he had recently had a second trigger?

"You must be a blast on movie nights," he said, taking a ready stance blocking the doorway. She didn't need any kind of superpower to see that he was relaxed, thinking he had her trapped.

"They figured out they should let me pick the movies pretty quickly," Tattletale said, still searching for an explanation. A second trigger didn't feel right either. Maybe he had some kind of radius of power-he could freeze things he touched, then slow things down more effectively the closer they came to his skin.

"Seriously, though, you guys are crooks, but I thought you weren't killers," Clockblocker said. "You couldn't have known that I could dodge bullets."

He sounded a little too proud of that, and Tattletale smiled as it finally clicked. A new ability, but not of his own. Looks like the Wards had a new Trump on the team. The smile dropped a little as the thrill of figuring out a puzzle faded into concern about how to deal with it.

"Dodge bullets? You don't have to," Tattletale said, "you can just freeze your costume."

Isolating his costume from the normal flow of time would render it bullet proof-everything proof, really-but would also freeze him in place long enough for Tattletale to finish her business and squeeze by him. The perfect solution. She squinted slightly, trying to figure out a new way out.

_Left jab. Feint. Duck the haymaker. Stomp on left foot. Sweep remaining leg. Direct fall to corner of desk. Obstacle removed._

She blinked. Not only had she received a series of instructions-not information, instructions-she had seen a vivid series of accompanying images terminating in a still body lying in an expanding pool of blood. She shook her head; that wouldn't do at all.

"Come on, just give yourself up," Clockblocker said, interrupting her thought process. "You guys haven't done anything too bad, there's no way you're going to the Birdcage. They might even make you a Ward."

"Tempting, but I'm going to have to decline the offer," Tattletale said, smiling as she saw what she wanted. She set her gun down on the desk, knocking some pens onto the floor.

She took a step forward, and Clockblocker mirrored her, closing the distance. He reached out gently, clearly intending to lay a hand on her and freeze her in place for arrest. She deflected his arm at the forearm, then stepped in to land a solid punch in his ribs. He tried to bring his other arm in to tag her, but she ducked and stepped back.

Clockblocker's stance betrayed some wariness, now. He took another step forward, and she feinted another punch at his body. He brought his arms in to protect himself, leaving his face vulnerable. She reached up and snatched off his mask.

This time, as she stepped back he lunged forward angrily, all caution forgotten. He almost had her pinned against the bank manager's desk when his foot came down on one of the pens that she had knocked on the floor earlier, sending his foot flying out in front of himself as he lost his balance and landed on the floor with a thud.

Tattletale grabbed her pistol off the table and aimed it at her fallen foe. "You have three seconds to freeze your costume."

"Please," Clockblocker shook his head as he reached back and propped himself up. "You've had your six."

She aimed slightly off to the side and pulled the trigger. In close like this the roar of the gunshot was deafening, and he flopped back on the ground in surprise. Bringing the gun back to bear on Clockblocker, she raised her eyebrow while counting to three in her head. When she pulled the trigger again the bullet deflected off of his suddenly immovable costume.

"This isn't a revolver," she said, shaking her head. "Do they even train you guys to deal with guns, or do you just get all of your information from old James Bond movies?"

"A little from column A, a little from column B," he replied, embarassed.

She shook her head and walked back to the computer. Those numbered bank accounts weren't going to empty themselves. The only sound in the room was the clicking of computer keys for a good minute or so before Clockblocker spoke again.

"It's too bad you won't be joining the Wards," he said. "It's not fair having all the hot chicks be villains."

"You should be glad Miss Militia isn't here to hear that," Tattletale replied, her eyes not leaving the monitor. "On multiple levels."

"What? Oh, yeah," he said. "But she's an adult. It's different than having somebody cute around who's our age."

"Shadow Stalker's outfit doesn't leave much to the imagination," Tattletale said, performing some mental arithmetic. The trick was to skim off enough money that she'd be able to do something with it, but not so much that it would bring her to the attention of the wrong sort.

"Yeah, but after you've been exposed to her personality the shine comes off of her looks pretty quick."

"You didn't strike me as the kind of guy to worry about something like that," she replied, finishing up with the computer and logging out once she had covered her traces.

"Hey, I'm not one hundred percent teenage hormones. Ninety, ninety-five percent, tops," he said. Something in his tone sounded more cheerful than the situation really warranted. "The good news is, you're going to have the time to get to know my more redeeming qualities."

Her head snapped up, and it took only an instant for Tattletale to recognize her mistake. Clockblocker had closed the door when he walked in, and when he flopped back and sprawled out, his outstretched hand had reached just far enough to touch the door with his outstretched finger. She couldn't afford to wait for his power to wear off, and even if she could, he could just keep re-freezing his uniform and the door indefinitely.

Tattletale sighed.

"So the plan is that you keep us in here and hit on me until I break down and join the Wards?"

"Hey, it could happen," Clockblocker protested. "I'll have you know I've charmed three former villains into switching over to the good guys."

she didn't say anything in reply, letting her expression convey her skepticism.

"Would you believe, two former villains?"

Tattletale shook her head, and Clockblocker sighed.

"There was one rogue who joined the Boston Wards after I met her. She said our friendship was too important to risk by trying for a romantic relationship."

Tattletale chuckled as she fished out her cell phone and tapped out a quick text message. "That sounds about right."

"Look, seriously," Clockblocker said, "I've seen the numbers. Robbing banks is a lousy way to make a living. It always ends badly. I... wouldn't want to see you get hurt."

She was spared from having to make an immediate reply by the enormous crashing noise as one of Bitch's dogs crashed through the wall adjacent to the door. She picked him her gun and tucked it back in its compartment, then took a quick glance around the room to make sure she hadn't forgotten everything. Her eyes settled on Clockblocker's face, and something about the sincerity in his expression made her pause.

"Well, that's my ride," she said, then waited a beat. "I have to admit you have this whole eager puppy thing going on that's kind of cute. Maybe we can go on a double date sometime."

She flashed him her best mischievous grin, then hopped on her mutated steed and was out of the room before he could recover enough to respond.

ooOoo

"Dennis," Director Piggot said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "In your reports, you should limit yourself to plausible lies."

"What?" Dennis asked, indignant. "Carlos tells us about how he got crane-kicked into submission by the karate dog and that's fine, but this is where we draw the line?"

"Dennis," Carlos said, shaking his head. "You weren't seduced into submission by busty ninja triplets. You might as well tell us what really happened."

"Would you believe twins?"

As one, all of the Wards in the room shook their heads.

"Fine, there was just one girl," Dennis said, kicking the floor, "and she kind of kicked my ass. She totally did say I was cute, though."

"Lovely," Piggot said, before turning her attention to Taylor. "I suppose the only remaining mystery is how Grue was able to get the better of you."

Taylor's face flushed in anger, and even the battle-hardened Wards flinchedback at the display of anger from the normally level-headed girl. She was almost snarling as she spoke.

"It was a no good dirty trick, is how," she said, pounding her fist into her palm. "The next time I see him, I'm going to pound him flat!"

ooOoo

Grue's darkness was impossible for anybody else to see through, but for him it was clear as glass. He saw his team gathered in the bank lobby, which meant it was time to go. He had succeeded in keeping their surprise guest away from the rest of the group for the duration of the job. Now all he had to do was figure out how he was going to get out of here.

He looked down at the girl beneath him. He had her arm captured in a painful joint lock that, with just a little bit of additional pressure, could quite easily dislocate her shoulder. However, she had managed to contort her legs around his lower body in a complicated hold. Though he had a hard time puzzling out exactly how it worked, it was obvious that she could tear his leg out of the socket any time she felt like it.

Despite the pain she had to be feeling, she was wearing a triumphant grin. Brian couldn't help but smile back, even if she couldn't see it.

"I have to admit, you're pretty good," he said.

The two of them were locked together face to face. Nothing... improper... was touching, but they were close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek when she replied.

"Better than you."

It was true. She was forced to fight in darkness while he could see plain as day. The only way she could sense his movement was by the air he displaced, so by the time she could feel his attacks he was only inches from contact. Despite that, it was all he could do to attain the current stalemate. She was stronger than him, faster than him, and-though he hated to admit it-more skilled than him.

Something about the way she fought was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"You're stuck now," she continued. "The Protectorate is going to get here eventually."

Her comment brought him out of his attempt to search his memory and focused his attention on their current predicament. She was right that time was now on her side.

He could just dislocate her shoulder and try to escape while she was distracted by the pain. Panacea could put her back together, and it wasn't like he had ever prioritized others' well-being over keeping his own ass out of jail before. Of course, if he did that she might just cripple his leg, which would be bad.

Also, part of him just didn't want things to end that way. He thought about the pure joy she had taken in the fight, her athletic figure, the graceful way she moved...

"Guess I better get going," Grue finally said. Then he leaned down and kissed her right on the lips.

She stiffened, then relaxed, just for an instant. It was enough, as he yanked his leg free from her grip and leapt away before she recovered from the surprise.

He thought about saying something, but he didn't think she would hear him over the sound of her own voice cursing him out. She started lashing out blindly, and when she put her fist into-and through-the bullet proof glass guarding the tellers' station, Grue decided that discretion was definitely the better part of valor in this case.

He greeted his team with a wave as he jogged out of the darkness. As soon as he was astride Brutus, the darkness billowed out to fill the bank lobby and pour out the doors to the outside. Grue felt a warm glow of satisfaction in his stomach as they headed out of the bank, proud of his team for managing such a difficult job without any casualties.

His joy was only diminished slightly when Aegis, flying blindly through the darness, managed to snag the harness Angelica was wearing to carry her share of the loot, scattering the bags of cash all over the floor. It wasn't a big deal-the boss had guaranteed their take, after all.

He had a feeling the boss would be happy to pay. It was pretty obvious he had wanted them to act as a distraction for something. Under cover of the darkness, unseen by his teammates, Grue brought up a finger and touched his lips.

He smiled.

One of the Wards was definitely going to be distracted.

ooOoo


End file.
